Conviction

I just got off the phone with my best friend.

Here's how our relationship works: I have some sort of crisis. I call her and pour out my heart (usually this takes no less than an hour). She listens, interjecting only an occasional "mm, hm", while I scream, cry, or moan. After I finish pouring out my heart, we have some brief discussion of the matter, but mostly I've already talked through all of the issues, and can plainly see what I should do.

I'm sure glad God gave me Joanna, because she is a lot cheaper than therapy, and just as effective.

Seriously though, I've been wrestling through some issues, and have been hesitant to discuss them with her. I've talked about them briefly with her sister, I've talked about them in-depth with her mom (my spiritual mom), I've told the ladies in my church about them, but until I broke down and discussed it with her, I really hadn't gotten to the heart of the issues.

As I talked with her though, all the terrible motives, bad attitudes, and depravity just came pouring out of me. Who knew I had that much sin lurking in my heart (and there it is again - pride!)? God has been working on me this week, working on me hard, and today was the icing on the cake. But here's the deal: conviction is good.

It wasn't until recently that I began to really rejoice in the conviction of the Holy Spirit. It wasn't until recently, that I really began to understand what an extreme act of mercy -- of kindness -- conviction really is. If God is convicting you of your sins, don't fight it, He is keeping you from destruction! A chance to turn and repent? Yes, please.

It feels good to get things off my chest. It helps me to see where I really, what the real issues are, but more than that, it helps me to see how much I need a Savior. I need God to incline my heart to keep His Word. We sang a song in church today with a few lines that always get me:

"I would but can't repent,
Though I endeavor oft;
This stony heart can ne'er relent,
Till Jesus makes it soft.

I would but cannot love,
Though wooed by love divine;
No arguments have power to move
A soul as base as mine."

I can only stand and ask that God would grant to me what He commands of me. I know that I have no power of my own to obey, so I must pray not only for the inclination, but the power. Lord, help me to will against my will. I see what You have commanded, and I in no way am able, help my inability, help my unbelief.

And in His graciousness, faithfulness, and mercy, He continues to condescend to me. Wow, amazing love.

If

I'm having a Jonah day.

Have you ever had one of those? A day that is characterized by setting yourself up against the purposes of the Almighty? A day of running? A day of teeth grinding and whining and the breaking down of long-held biases?

Oh, but now I must make a confession: I'm not having a Jonah day, I'm having a Jonah year. And looking back, not only a Jonah year, but a Jonah decade. My greatest fear is that God would call me to be a missionary. Me, lover of missionaries since I was a little girl, fear to be counted among their ranks.

There is something so humbling about the mission field, and I am not a humble person. Please Lord, anywhere but here. Anything but that. I remember the day a few years ago when, in the midst of praying about the future, I felt with terrifying certainty that God was not going to answer my prayers in the way I expected Him to. In fact, I had the incredibly overwhelming sense that God was calling me back to the mission field.

Run Jonah, run.

Now, it's decision time again. I thought we had an agreement. This year of service in exchange for the rest of my life to pursue my own dreams. Let me get back to my plans just as soon as I can, don't bother me with Your designs. Mine, mine, mine. Only He commands, and it is resounding, "No. Mine."

I don't understand.

IF when an answer I did not expect
comes to a prayer I believe I truly meant,
I shrink back from it;
if the burden my Lord asks me to bear
be not the burden of my heart's choice,
and I fret inwardly and do not welcome His will,
then I know nothing of Calvary love.
~ Amy Carmichael

Eight Months

I know that more often than not this blog has been a place for me to blow off steam, moan about the hard things, or throw out my questions regarding the past, present, and future. But today, today, I have some glorious news. News that has taken me eight months, eight freaking months, to announce: two of our partner churches are finally coming together for ministry!

Big deal, you say. Oh, if only you knew the blood, sweat, and tears that have gone into pulling this off, you'd understand how truly fantastic this news is. Delays on their end, my end, everybody's end, nearly succeeded in keeping me in the very pit of despair regarding this partnership. But praise be to God who orders all things according to His glorious counsel, finally, finally, we'll all be coming together for training and ministry.

Do you hear it? It's the angels singing. No, don't say I'm blowing it out of proportion, because when you've been waiting eight months (eight freaking months) for something which seemed at the time so very easy to orchestrate, and which looked as if it might never take place -- in other words, something truly impossible -- this is nothing short of a miracle. In fact, I think it might be. And I wanted to record it because I think it just might be a harbinger of things to come.